The Flip
by BytesTheDust
Summary: AU: Olivia is an interior designer/architect. Fitz is a general contractor. A residential renovation job forces them to work together.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** **Saw a picture of Tony Goldwyn with scruff and short hair. Designer/Contractor AU had to happen.**

 **But first, I've gotten a lot of messages about my stories. I deleted them and honestly never thought I would write FF, especially Scandal FF again. Couple reasons why: 1. I don't update, so I didn't think anyone would notice. 2. I was probably not going to finish the stories I started because of lack of time, inspiration, and totally forgetting where I was going with the stories to begin with. 3. I wasn't particularly proud of a lot of that writing. That being said, thanks to everyone who messaged me and I truly appreciate you reading what I write.** **I'm working to get put them in a PDF and will share on my Tumblr**

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In Olivia Pope's mind shiplap might be the most overrated word in the English language. Okay, maybe not the English language, but certainly overrated in the construction world. Recently, all of her clients wanted shiplap walls, farmhouse sinks, and concrete countertops. She shouldn't have been surprised when her newest client, Jane Frazier, an empty-nester with a big wallet and even bigger demands, suggested "a modern farmhouse look" for her vacation home in rural Nashville.

With a folding table in front of her, Olivia sat across from Jane, in what would become a massive open kitchen. They had been poring over floor plans and light fixtures for a better part of an hour. Olivia loved her job, and she was great at it, but she would never get used to high maintenance and highly opinionated clients like Jane, especially during preliminary designer-contractor meetings.

"I'm thinking we could add a barn door to close off the pantry," Jane suggested while pointing at a wall-less, empty corner of the kitchen.

"Sure," we could do that Olivia agreed reluctantly. Tapping her manicured nails on the table, her diamond tennis bracelet gently brushing against the table's plastic edges, she thought of a gentle way to redirect Jane. "Or," she continued.

"And what about white subway tile there," Jane interjected, her eyes turning to what could be her future sink.

"That. That's an idea," Olivia replied. Feigning interest in Jane's cliche suggestions wasn't easy.

"When do you think we will have all this done? It's hard to see myself living here...when it's like this." Jane asked.

Olivia looked around the room. It was bare-bones with no flooring, no appliances, no cabinetry.

"Well hopefully we can knock the kitchen out in a week or two, but that will depend on your contractor. Shouldn't he be here by now?" Olivia asked, peeking at her watch. She wasn't a particularly patient person, and she hated when meetings were delayed. Jane was very adamant that she meet with the contractor in person instead of conferencing from her D.C. office like she would have preferred.

Before Jane could respond, they heard tapping on the door.

"That's probably him," Jane said as she stood to leave the room and answer the door. "You will love him," she whispered as she exited.

"Doubtful," Olivia said under her breath. She'd rarely met a general contractor that didn't annoy her. And typically, she only worked with her own in-house contractor, one she had known for years, but he wasn't licensed in Tennessee. Even if he were, Jane preferred using her own. The idea of working with a new contractor, out of state, with a client who was proving to have bad taste made her second guess her decision to take the job.

The faint chatter down the hall let her know that the new contractor was approaching. She sat up in her chair, straightend her blue blouse and crisp white skirt, and tried to hide the annoyance she knew was spreading across her face.

"Here he is," Jane said with a smile and a towering man behind her. "Liv, this is Fitz. He did all of over renovations in Santa Barbara. He took a literal dumpster fire of a cottage in Montecito and turned it into the vacay spot of her our dreams," Jane said adoringly.

"And Fitz, this is Olivia Pope. You won't find a better designer on the east coast. She was in last month's Southern Living. Her work is _incredible_."

Modestly, "That's very sweet," Olivia replied.

"Well it's the truth. And I'm so excited to have the best of the best working on our home. My sister, Ruth Ann, just flipped a ranch house in Brentwood, but I know ours will be so much better with y'alls help. Which reminds me, I need to show you two my Pinterest boards. I've got a lot of ideas. I'll go grab my iPad. Be right back," Jane said so quickly they barely processed her words. She left the room just as fast, leaving Fitz and Olivia alone.

Olivia gave him a once over. It may have been a stereotype, but Fitz didn't look like any contractor she worked with in the past. Though he looked like he missed a couple weeks of shaving, his cardigan and and fitted jeans gave him a causal yet polished look. He looked like more of an investor type not someone who would take a sledgehammer to drywall. She had to admit he was handsome.

He caught the glare she was throwing his way, taking in her a-line skirt, four inch nude heels, and the fact that not a single hair on her head was out of place. He smiled and extended his hand.

Ending their stare down, she stood and shook his hand. "Should I expect you to arrive an hour late to all of our meetings?" Olivia asked as she let go of his firm grasp. Her tone let him know that she was not one to take lightly. She glanced at her watch and looked back at him.

He chuckled and smugly responded, "Air traffic control is kind of out of my hands, but I'm sorry a delayed flight has inconvenienced you."

She sighed and shook her head, realizing bickering with him was not going to make this job go any faster or any easier. They needed to get to work. She adjusted her tone and said, "As I'm sure you know, we have a tight timeline, and I'd like to get the bathroom and kitchen re-plumbed first. That's always-"

"I'm very aware of the timeline, Miss Pope," he said abruptly.

"Good. So having the kitchen done in seven days won't be a problem?"

"It shouldn't be."

"And all the bathrooms?"

Her doubt sounded a bit like condescension. Fitz could handle someone doubting his work, but being patronized was hard to handle.

He took a step toward to her, wanting to be direct. "Listen, I don't know how your projects normally run, but when you're working with me, if you stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours. So you can pick out your little chandeliers and your backsplash tile and I'll make sure everything is installed and working properly."

"' _Little chandeliers'_ Is that what you think I do?" she asked, seemingly surprised by his arrogance.

He scoffed and folded his arms. "How much are they paying you for this gig? Because I have an intern I could send to Home Depot and West Elm to do your job for free," he replied.

Her voice elevated. Her posture straightened. She moved closer to him. "Oh really? I'm pretty sure I could probably find a Section 8 Super who'd actually show up _on time_ and could do your job for a fraction of what you're getting paid, yet here you are."

Fitz was not one to back down and didn't care about personal space. He inched nearer to her. "I know we're in the sticks, but maybe you could pull one from out of your ass so we can do get this job done."

With her mouth agape, Olivia was past the point of seeing red. No one in her professional life had ever spoken to her like that. "Are you fu-"

"Fitz. Liv. I'm so sorry about that. Where were we?" Jane interrupted. The tension was completely lost on her.

Olivia took a step back and a deep breath, brushing the wrinkles out of her skirt, needing something to do with her hands. She couldn't remember the last time someone got a rise out of her so quickly. Gathering her composure, she wasn't sure how she was going to get through the next two months.

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 **AN: I've actually been thinking about writing this story outside of Scandal characters, but decided why not. I know where I'm going with this one, and while I can't say how regularly I'll update, I'm definitely motivated to write it. Would love to hear your thoughts.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I'm just as surprised as some of y'all might be to see an update. I really appreciate the sweet messages that y'all sent checking in. There have been so many reasons why I haven't updated including a general lack of interest in Scandal. But mostly a lack of time. I still don't have a ton of time, but I do have a desire to write again. I'm pretty rusty, so I don't know how good this will be. I've written the first half, and here's what you can expect from this story: largely Olivia's POV, lots of dialogue, and probably some mature material. I hope you like it.**

 **Thanks to everyone for sticking with it. Totally understand why some won't. I don't know how often I'll update, but I will finish this story. **

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Olivia wasn't easily thrown off her game at work. She was precise and made decisions with ease. She was hyper-focused, worked well under pressure, and was never easily stirred. This is why it surprised to find herself flushed, distracted, and angry during her encounter with Fitz.

 _Fitz. What kind of name was that_ she wondered, as she took photos around the Fraizer estate. She assumed he was probably old money. Only the wealthy would be arrogant enough to name their child something that sounded like a sound-effect rather than a proper name she surmised. He may have looked a bit rugged, but he also looked rich. Maybe it was the years spent honing the taste of the elite or the time spent being educated alongside their children, but Olivia had an eye for spotting people with money. And despite her generous income, rising tax-bracket, and comfortable lifestyle, Olivia often had contempt for the rich and their gaudy taste. This often made her job challenging, trying to find the balance between her preference of elegant and simple design with the often garish inclinations of her clients. Mrs. Fraizer was proving to be no different. Her tastes were as questionable as her choice in a homebuilder. Olivia braced herself for the what the next few weeks with Fitz would be like. She imagined it would be nightmarish as their introduction.

Despite this, Olivia loved a new project just as much as she loved a challenge. She didn't have much time before she needed to catch a flight back to her home in D.C., but she found herself alone on a Sunday in the empty Frazier home getting all the details she could. Tucked away between lush hills, it was a good home that would be great once she was done with it. That was if Fitz would be willing to cooperate. She worked with men like him before. Not just wealthy men, but rude, cocky men who dismissed or underestimated her work. She was sick of it. Sick of men period. Sick of them both professionally and personally. All the men she worked with her jerks, and all the men she dated were assholes. If she were honest, it was part of the reason she took the job in Nashville. It was a chance to expand her portfolio in a town where people were nice and weren't in a rush to get things done. At least that's what she hoped.

She also hoped that she could wrap-up her measurements and photo taking in less than an hour, but that was proving not to be true. It wasn't helping that she was completing the task alone. Normally her assistant Quinn helped in this capacity. It also didn't help that the walls were massive. She found a single-pole ladder in the garage and used it so that she could get close-ups of some of the crown molding in the living room. It looked original to the home and worth replicating in other areas. A few feet up on the ladder, she attempted to point her phone's camera in the direction of the molding. Distracted, she didn't hear the sound of the front door slamming shut or the creaking floor beneath her.

"Need help?" she finally heard from behind her.

Startled, her cellphone fell out of her hand as she clutched her chest.

"Oh my god!" she screamed, nearly loosing balance on the ladder.

Her brain finally registered that she was not alone and that it was Fitz who was approaching her.

"You scared me half to death!" she yelled, steadying herself from up high.

She felt his hand on her back. She wasn't sure how he got so close so fast, but she was certain she wanted to hit him.

Seeing the look of both annoyance and fear on her face, "I'm so sorry. I thought you heard me come in," he replied.

"It's fine," she said, attempting to gather herself.

She brushed Fitz's hand off of her as she climbed down the ladder.

"I've got it," she said confidently as her feet touched the ground.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

She could not shake the aggravation out of her voice. She wasn't expecting to see anyone, which is why she was barefaced in denim shorts and a racer-back tank top. She disliked being surprised almost as much as she disliked people who were late. Rich, a propensity for surprises and for tardiness, Fitz was hitting the trifecta of traits she despised.

"I was coming to get a few measurements. Those blueprints Jane sent seemed off," he said, pulling out a laser tape measure from the tool belt around his waist.

She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes noticing the tools he carried. Most general contractors she worked with left the measuring and handiwork to their foremen. He was probably a micromanager she assumed.

She noticed Fitz giving her a once over. She adjusted her shirt, and pressed down any potential fly aways in her hair.

"What?" she asked, his stare feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"Nothing," he said, quickly averting his eyes. "Just going to get started on these measurements."

They awkwardly stood a foot a part but neither moved.

"Right," she said, finally moving to pick up her phone from the ground. Seeing that there was no damage to it, she put it in her back pocket. She wanted to get back on the ladder and finish up, but knew it would be a lost cause. There was no way she was going to be able to work with him in her way.

"How long are you going to be here?" she asked. It was a genuine question, but it came out harsher than she intended.

"As long as I need to," he replied curtly. "Jane told me it would be empty. I wasn't expecting company."

"Well, she told me the same thing, so..."

"So it looks like you better get used to working with people around. This is the quietest this house is going to get for the next couple of months, sweetheart" he replied, cutting her off with a smirk.

This time she rolled her eyes. " _Sweetheart_?" she scoffed. She wasn't in the mood for a continuation of the day prior. "I'm just gonna go. I have a flight out anyway. It was-" she hesitated for a moment. "It was _interesting_ meeting you," she said. Heading out of the living room to grab the carry-on she'd brought with her.

"A pleasure," she heard from behind her, the condescension more than evident.

She hurried out the door and headed towards the driveway. She was beyond ready to go home. Dealing with TSA seemed like a better experience than being around Fitz. She pulled out her phone to order a Lyft, but found she had no service.

"Great," she huffed, lifting her phone towards the sky as if it would give her better signal. She had only been outside for a couple of minutes, but south's humidity was getting the best of her. Sweaty and exasperated, she tried turning her phone off and on before realizing that she was not going to get the service she needed. She headed back towards the house, but caught Fitz leaving as she approached the front door. She turned back around and glared at her phone wanting to avoid any conversation with him, even if it was just another two second, awkward goodbye.

Fitz walked past her without saying a word and headed toward a lifted, F-250 pick-up truck that was parked in the driveway. It was one of the largest trucks, Olivia had ever seen. People didn't drive vehicles like that in her neck of the woods. He turned to her as he opened the truck door seeming to sense that something was off.

"Are you good?" he asked, getting in his car, leaving the door open to catch her response.

"Yep. Totally good," she said, making eye contact with him for a moment, awkwardly giving him a thumbs up, and staring back at her phone.

He smiled seeming to get some form of pleasure from her discomfort. "You sure? You look like you're about to pass out?"

"No, I'm fine," she said wiping the perspiration from her forehead. "My phone is just being...you know," she said, trying to be causal and hoping he would leave soon.

"Oh it's a dead-zone out here," he said.

She didn't respond, still attempting to use her app to get a ride.

"Do you need a ride somewhere?" He offered.

"No. Nope. I'm fine. I'll-"

"Are you sure? I thought you had a flight to catch."

Olivia hated needing or asking for help no matter how big or small the task, which is why she insisted. "I do. But it's not a big deal. I can...uh...walk or," she suggested, trying to sound assured.

"Olivia, seriously I don't mind. It's hot as hell out here, and you're going to miss your flight."

She shuffled her feet and continued to fiddle with her phone.

"Are you always this damn stubborn?" he asked with smile.

She glared up at him. Feeling slightly exposed, she put her hand on her hip and replied with a sigh, "Fine."


	3. Chapter 3

"What is this demolition derby-ass truck?" Olivia asked, hoping he picked up on her joking tone. She didn't know how to break the silence they had been sitting in for what felt like an eternity but, in reality, had only been a few minutes. For all the shit-talking Fitz had done at the estate, he was rather quiet in a confined space. Olivia couldn't believe he offered to take her to the airport, and she couldn't believe she agreed. Not just because of their less than stellar introduction, but mostly because it was nearly 20 miles away from the Frazier home.

Fitz chuckled. "It's not mine. It's my in-law's," he replied.

She nodded and glanced at his hands gripping the wheel. She didn't see a ring on his finger, but she knew that didn't mean anything. She worked with lots of men who didn't wear rings in their industry.

"Former brother in-law, I should say," he corrected as if reading her mind. "But, we're still close."

Nodding, "Are you from here?" she asked.

"No. My ex is though, so I'm here a lot. For the kids mostly."

"So you live here?"

"Something like that. I'm from California."

Olivia wanted to ask more questions if only to lessen the silence, but didn't want to pry. He kept his eyes on the road as she glanced in his direction. The way the sun hit his face through the window gave him a glow that highlighted his chiseled facial features. _Damn_ , she thought. He was undeniably attractive. She wondered his age. He had to be a at least a decade older than her. She looked down at her phone to keep from staring. She tried to think of something to say to keep the conversation going.

"Do you primarily work in Nashville or California?" She asked, remembering that Mrs. Fraizer mentioned working with him in Santa Barbara.

"We build all over the country."

There weren't too many luxury home builders who contracted work all across the country. He had to be a prominent builder. She was sure she had probably seen his work before.

"What's your last name?" she asked, trying to figure out if she knew of him, still glancing at her phone.

He turned to look at her, seeming a bit surprised by her line of questioning. "Grant. Do you need my social too or?" he asked with a smirk.

Embarrassed, she dropped her phone in her lap. He probably thought she was Googling or Insta-stalking him. "Sorry, I was just trying to...never mind," she said, averting her eyes away from him and looking straight ahead at the road.

"No, it's fine. _Ms. Pope_ ," he replied with a smile. His tone confused her. She couldn't tell if he was being condescending or flirtatious. She assumed it was the former.

"How often do you plan to get back here?" he asked. She was surprised he wanted to continue the conversation. She thought about the question for a moment. Some designers were hands-off in the building process. They simply submitted their designs and visited the projects for the major aspects like framing. She preferred to be as hands-on as her clients would allow. Mrs. Fraizer may have been demanding, but she was also allowing Olivia to visit the property as much as she needed.

"I'm not sure. A couple times a month, maybe. What about you?" she responded.

"I'll be here the entire time. My kids are here for summer," he said as they neared their destination. Olivia was grateful to see the exit sign for the airport terminals.

"Well, I guess I'll see you on my next trip," she replied.

"Yeah, but we'll talk before that," he said confidently.

"What?" Olivia questioned for a moment before realizing that they had a few standard, designer-builder conference calls scheduled before her next visit. "Right," she confirmed, trying to play-off her confusion. She was flustered for reasons she could not figure out.

He pulled his enormous truck into the drop-off lane and parked. "Is this good?" he asked of the location.

"This is great. Thank you. I really appreciate you doing this."

"No problem at all." He moved to open his door to help her out of the truck.

"It's fine. I got it," she said, noticing him moving to assist her. "Really," she said, quickly getting out of the car and grabbing her bags.

"Thank you," she said again, before closing the door with a wave goodbye. She caught herself smiling as she entered the airport. Then stopped herself. She wasn't sure what exactly she was feeling, but she knew she had to shake it.


	4. Chapter 4

"Look at my puppy nephew!" Olivia said gleefully as she pet the golden doodle bouncing at her feet. She was confident that allowing pets in the office was one of the best professional decisions she made since she started her firm five years ago. She wasn't a pet owner, but between the dozen staff members she employed, there was always a dog at work, and she adored it.

Grateful for the distraction, she picked him up and carried him towards her office with her assistant at her heels. There were days when she looked around the office and was proud of what she accomplished. Today was a one of them. Her office aesthetic was a sample of her design style. It was open with white walls and vintage maple floors. The pops of color came from her statement, blush couches and the pastel art pieces she'd commissioned from a local painter. It was homey, yet chic. If she couldn't be in her own home, she wanted her office to feel as comfortable as possible.

"Liv, we really need to nail down the summer schedule," Quinn stated firmly.

"I know. I know. We are," Olivia said, taking a seat behind her desk, holding the dog in her lap. If there was one thing she hated about her job, it was scheduling. It was tedious and overwhelming and forced her to realize when and how she overextended herself.

"Can I make some tea first?" she asked, wanting to procrastinate a little more before completing the schedule.

"You were supposed to be getting tea ten minutes ago," Quinn retorted, unable to hide her annoyance.

"I know, but Jen brought in Tucker," she said pointing to the puppy in her lap. "What was I supposed to do?" she said, throwing her hands up.

Unammused, Quinn stared at her. "Fine," Olivia relented and opened her Mac Book. "Let's get started," she said with a huff.

"Great. So on Tuesday you're in Arlington for the design meeting with the Johnsons. Thursday you have to meet the engineer for the Richardson project," Quinn said.

"Got it," Olivia confirmed, trying to stay focused and sound intereseted. As Quinn rattled off dates and appointments, Olivia's mind drifted away from the conversation at hand. She did not want to admit to herself, but she could not stop thinking about Fitz. It was _weird_. Never in her adult life had a man kept her mind wandering. But as she sat at her desk, similar to how she sat through the duration of the flight back to D.C., all she could think about were their encounters. She couldn't understand how did he manage to irritate and intrigue her. Did she come off too strong? Was she too bitchy? Did she seem competent? At the very least, she hoped she seemed like she knew what she was doing.

"Then on the 30th," Quinn paused for a moment. The silence in the room brought Olivia back to reality.

"On the 30th," Olivia repeated, waving her hands, urging Quinn to continue as if she had been paying attention the entire time.

"You have Edison's banquet," Quinn confirmed nervously.

Olivia scoffed. "I'm not going to that," she stated decisively.

"You said you would-"

"We're broken up."

"It's for his _grandma_ , Liv. She _loves_ you. And you promised her you'd go even though you're broken up."

Olivia stared at Quinn as if her glare would change her RSVP.

"You don't have to stay long," Quinn said, trying to sound convincing.

"Fine. As long as all parties know that this is not a date," Olivia said.

"Not a date," Quinn confirmed, jotting notes in her notebook. She looked up to find Olivia staring at her.

"K. So the Frazier estate," Quinn continued, happily changing the topic. "How did it go this weekend?"

Olivia groaned. Even if she wanted to escape thoughts of Fitz, she couldn't. "A shit-show. Mrs. Fraizer has _the worst_ taste. I swear these people watch one episode of Fixer Upper, and they think they're a designer. Why everyone wants these _Little House on the Prairie-_ ass houses..."

"Country bumpkin chic, I know," Quinn stated. This was not the first time she'd heard this rant.

And recognizing this was not the first tangent of this kind, "Sorry. It was fine," Olivia answered.

"And the builder?" Quinn asked, taking notes.

"Fitz Grant," Olivia confirmed, which reminded her that she wanted to Google him. She did so as she spoke. "Never heard of him before, but apparently he has a big presence."

"Well you have a meeting with him in a few minutes," Quinn confirmed, checking her watch.

Surprised, Olivia looked up from her laptop. She knew they would be speaking soon, but didn't realize it would be this soon. It hit her that this project was going to be more consuming that she anticipated.

"Why did we agree to do this again?" Olivia asked, feeling like the cons of working in Nashville might outweigh the pros.

Quinn picked up her phone and scrolled through it. "' **Just saw a spread of Tim McGraw and Faith Hill's cottage in Brentwood, TN. Seems charming. Find a bid in Nashville**.' Text delivered on March 1st at 10:45pm." Quinn stated as if she had a premonition of this conversation.

Olivia sighed, chuckling and throwing her head back. "Well you could have convinced me otherwise."

"March 1st at 10:50pm: **Tennessee. ? Idk. Seems a little racist** ," Quinn replied with a smile, but continued. "You said, ' **All towns in America ARE a little racist. Nashville seems fine. Also, it's an excuse to wear cowgirl boots without looking like an idiot. Please find a bid** ," Quinn finished, the smirk never leaving her face. Olivia knew Quinn loved being right as much as she liked seeing Olivia being wrong. "Plus, you're technically getting overpaid for this, and she's paying for all of your travel," she reminded her.

Before Quinn could gloat too much, Olivia's office phone buzzed. "Liv, line two," they heard from the speaker

"That's probably him," Quinn confirmed, getting up to leave. Olivia passed the sleeping dog to Quinn, and straightend her skirt as if Fitz could see her through the phone.

"Send it through," Olivia said into the speaker as Quinn left her alone in the room.

As she waited for the call to connect, she clicked on the first Google result from her "Fitz Grant home builder" search. A sleek webpage with a photo of a pristine, white kitchen as it's banner with 'Grant Home Builders' in the top left corner of the page filled her screen. She was surprised at the professionalism. A quick scroll through, and she realized that when Fitz said he worked throughout the country, he meant 25 states. She clicked on the 'About Us' page. She scrolled until she found a picture of him with the caption Fitzgerald Grant. He was clean shaven and looked far more polished than he presented in person. _Fitzgerald_ , she thought. The name still screamed old money, but at least made a bit more sense. She began to read his bio:

 **Established in 2006, Grant Home Builders, lead by Fitzgerald Grant III is the premier home builder from coast-to-coast.**

"Ms. Pope," the voice on the other end finally connected, interrupting her search. "Mr. Grant is ready for you now." The voice must have been his assistant. She didn't recognize it, and no one in her office called her "Ms. Pope." Intrigued by his website, she hadn't realized how long she had been waiting.

"Olivia," she heard through the phone, recognizing Fitz's voice immediately. It was smooth and deep, almost relaxing. The sound of it made her uncharacteristically nervous.

"I'm so sorry to have you wait. My kid called and insisted on showing me her newest karate belt," he explained. She could hear the pride at the mention of his child in his voice.

"It's fine," she said, sitting back in her seat and quickly closing her laptop as if he could see that she was researching him.

"I know we got off to kind of a rough start, but I'm looking forward to working with you. It's been a while since I've worked with an outside designer."

After viewing his site, she was curious about his entire operation from the designers he worked with to the vendors he used. He was not the typical builder she worked with. Unable to resist her curiosity, "How many designers do you employ?" she asked.

"Uh ten maybe," he replied.

His design team was just as large as her entire company. And he wasn't even sure about it. Something about that was a bit intimidating, and Olivia was rarely intimidated.

"But it's pretty cookie-cutter design. For mass scale," he said, trying to downplay it.

"Right," she said, listening, waiting for him to steer the conversation.

"I just wanted to get a timeline from you so we can put our crews together," he explained.

"Is it typical for you to be so...hands-on," she asked, ignoring his previous statement. She could not understand why a builder of this size was working so closely in a renovation project as he appeared to be.

"Jane's a family friend," he replied. Sensing that the answer did not quench her curiosity, "And it's been a while since I actually managed a renovation, especially one of this size. I don't know. It seemed like a good project. And the kids are there, so it feels like a good fit."

Although he didn't owe her an explanation regarding her involvement, she appreciated it.

"But the timeline," he said, getting back on topic.

"Yes, so I should have the designs finished in about a week. I'll fly to Nashville to discuss them with Mrs. Fraizer. If she approves, we'll just need the sign off from the engineer and you can get started."

"So I'll see you soon?" Fitz, replied.

"Uh yeah. I guess so," Olivia confirmed.

"Well like I said, I'm really looking forward to it. It's not often that you get to meet one of D.C.'s '30 Under 30'."

She swore she could tell he was smilng. She blushed, realizing he had read a profile about her. It was a couple of years old, but she had to admit that she was flattered that he found it.

She cleared her throat. "Likewise," she said.

"Let me know when you're back in town. Maybe I can pick you up from the airport this time," he stated with very little emotion.

Was he flirting with her? She truly couldn't tell. He was so hard to read. She liked to think that she had good instincts and could read people well. This was different.

"Well, I appreciate the offer, but that won't be necessary," she replied, hoping she didn't sound cold, just professional.

"See you soon, Ms. Pope," he said before disconnecting the call. Confused, she ended the call. Stood up, paced twice near hear desk, and sat back down. She realized that for the first time in her professional life, she was truly flustered.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: This chapter is dialogue heavy. When thinking about my favorite movies and books, I love watching or reading characters with good chemistry talk in rooms. If this is not your thing, skip to the next chapter. If this is your thing, I really hope you like it.**

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Olivia could count on one hand how many times she cried at work: once, when she received notification that she was granted a loan to start her own business, and a second time when she found out her best friend Abby was having a baby. Now, she could count a third time, standing in the pantry of the Frazier home. She landed in Nashville the night before and was actually excited to show Mrs. Frazier the design plans in person. She spent the last week sketching what she thought would be Mrs. Frazier's dream home. She soaked up every detail Mrs. Fraizer mentioned that she wanted. She studied every Pinterest post Mrs. Fraizer emailed her thinking they would be on the same page. She went against her better judgement and designed a home that was _far_ from her signature style, but was everything Mrs. Fraizer demanded. And now with the visuals in front of her, Jane Frazier hated every bit of Olivia's work. This had never happened. Clients sometimes objected to aspects of her design, but never the entire project. Floored, she excused herself and found the nearest empty room and attempted to collect herself. She was frustrated and embarrassed, and didn't help that Fitz was there to witness the whole thing.

Attempting to brush off her frustration, she returned to the living room where she, Fitz, and Mrs. Fraizer were supposed to be convening and smiled.

"Sorry about that. Just needed to take a call," Olivia said, trying to keep up the pretense she used to excuse herself.

Mrs. Fraizer picked up right where they left off. "I'm sorry Olivia. I just don't love it. It's not good," she said sternly.

"I get that, but it's also exactly what you said you wanted," Olivia tried to explain kindly.

Mrs. Fraizer shook her head. Her southern drawl masked her harsh tone, but she was no less curt. "It just doesn't look like what I was expecting. When I hired you, I was expecting something _more_. Honey, if you can't deliver, we'll have to-"

Cutting her off, "Tecnhnically we have another week before we need these finalized to stay on schedule. I'm sure Olivia can come up with something else," Fitz explained on her behalf.

Olivia glared at him. He had no idea what she had time for in the next week. She spent nearly seven days drawing up the current design, she couldn't afford another week. She was close to letting this project go, but Quinn was right. Mrs. Fraizer was paying nearly double her average design fee. Deep down though, she knew it wasn't about the money. As she stood in the living room, trying not to fume, she realized her pride would not let her have a client think her work was bad. So she agreed with Fitz.

"He's right," she said, nervously tapping her foot. "I can have a new design for you this time next week," she said, forcing a smile.

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Fraizer exclaimed, clapping her hands. "I've got to get the grand kids, but Olivia I'm looking forward to your next efforts, dear." She turned on her heels, gathered her purse, and headed towards the door before Olivia could even process that she was dismissing herself.

Stunned, she turned to Fitz who seemed to be taking some odd satisfaction from what just occurred. He also looked way more handsome than she remembered in a white v-neck shirt and jeans. She wasn't sure how that was possible. And that annoyed her, too.

"What?" she asked rhetorically.

"Nothing," he replied. He smirked, and it didn't go unnoticed it.

"It's not funny," Olivia said seriously.

"I didn't-"

"Why would she fly me out here just to shit on my work?" Olivia said aloud, needing to let her anger out. "She could have done this over the phone or through email," she said, starting to pace around the living room.

"Don't take it personally. Jane's, you know. _Jane_."

"Jane is Jane?" she questioned, stopping in her tracks to stare at him. "What does even that mean? An indecisive old hag with bad taste," she said furiously. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that," she said in a breath. "But really. What was that?" she said, needing some confirmation that, depsite feeling insane, it was Jane who was the crazy one not her.

"I've worked with her a few times. She's likes this. She says she wants one thing, but she really wants another. She doesn't know what she wants until she sees it," he tried to explain. "But she hired you because she likes your style. She likes your taste. So just do what you do, and she'll come around," he said confidently.

Fitz giving her a pep talk was not what she was expecting their next encounter to be. She couldn't believe she'd nearly cried in front of him. It was so unprofessional. There was no way he would take her seriously after this. She wanted to cry all over again at the realization.

"Listen, today was rough," Fitz started as he looked at his watch. "It's still early though. Why don't we go get a drink," he suggested.

"I don't want to get a drink with you, Fitz," she stated as a matter of fact, with absolutely no hesitation. "I want to go back to my hotel, order room service and work for the rest of the night," she explained. She appreciated the offer. And perhaps if her designs had worked for Mrs. Fraizer she would be inclined to join. But for now, all she could think about were the sketches she needed to get done to make this renovation work.

He smiled, seeming undeterred. "I'm sure that's what you _want_ to do, but I don't think that's what you _should_ do."

Unconvinced she moved to gather the failed design plans that were scattered throughout the living room. "Seriously," he said as he watched her move around the room. "We can go on Broadway. Get a drink. Clear your head. You probably need a little inspiration. What better way to get some than to see a little bit of this city?"

She knew he was probably right, but she didn't want him to be. She continued to ignore him and gathered her keys and purse.

"Besides, you owe me," he continued.

That caught her attention. She hated the idea of owing anyone anything to perhaps a clinical degree. She paid off her student and professional loans quicker than average because she hated the idea of being indebted to anyone or anything.

"For what?" she asked, genuinely confused by the accusation.

"Well, for one, you were mean to me when we first meet," he said with a grin.

That made her laugh. She cocked her head to the side, trying to gauge if he was serious. That was not how she remembered their first exchange.

"Also," he continued. "The airport ride."

"Oh my god," she said, shaking her head with a smile. She thought about it for a moment before conceding. "Fine. One drink."

* * *

Downtown Nashville was nothing how Olivia pictured it in her head. It may have been a moderate size city, but it had a bustling downtown. The people were as friendly as she expected, but the energy was a bit more frenetic. She wasn't a country music fan, but she didn't mind the sound of it blaring from every building they passed. Being that it was the middle of June, the air felt sticky and the smell of barbecue lingered through it. Fortunately, she dressed appropriately in a short yellow Reformation dress and Tory Burch sandals. She knew the humidity would not be kind to her newly pressed hair, so she put it in a low ponytail as she walked along Broadway with Fitz beside her. Despite not knowing him well, she felt at ease around him. The thought of him might have made her nervous, but when she was actually with him, she felt comfortable.

"I take it you've never gone honky-tonking" he said as the passed a series of bars.

"That would be correct," she replied.

"This is a good one," he said, pointing to a sign reading "Buddie's Honky Tonk." It was three stories, and she could hear the live music before they were fully inside. She followed him as he guided them through a crowd to the third floor. There was music on the third floor, but it was much quieter up there. He headed towards the bar at the edge of the room. Olivia looked at her surroundings. It seemed like a standard bar, just with more people wearing cowboy hats. She liked it.

"What are you having," the bartender, a blonde, petite girl in daisy dukes who looked like she was barely twenty-one, asked as they approached. Olivia couldn't help but wonder if that was Fitz's type. Not that it mattered, but she _was_ curious.

"I'll have a Jack and coke, and she'll have," Fitz started, looking beside him to see her drink of choice. "An Old Fashioned," Olivia said loud enough for the bartender to hear her. As the bartender made their drinks, Olivia heard her ask, "starting a tab or cashing out?"

Fitz turned to Olivia. Despite her one drink self-imposed rule, she didn't say a word. Fitz took the lack of protest as a sign that she might be okay with staying for a while. "Start a tab," he replied.

With drinks in their hand, Fitz found a booth in the corner of the bar. "Does this work?" he asked before taking a seat.

"Sure," she replied. All of a sudden the sense of ease she felt around him disappated. She would have to _talk_ , which seemed simple enough. She could have a conversation with anyone. But she hadn't actually _talked_ to a man in a bar in a while.

Seeming to sense her nerves, "Why do you look so tense?" he asked.

"I'm not," she said, trying to sound assured. She took a huge sip of her drink as he gazed at her.

"So tell me about you," he said.

She scoffed. She hated _this_ , hated small talk so much. She didn't want to be rude, but the reality of what it meant to get a drink set in. She was not in the mood, and was still having a hard time shaking the rejection of her design plans.

"Come on," he insisted. We are going to be working together for the next few months. "We might as well get this out of the way."

She bit her lip, knowing he was right. She was being rude. And they were colleagues now. At the very least, she needed to be professional.

"Speed round. You can't think too hard about the question. Just answer," he said. "Where are you from?" he asked.

"D.C." she replied.

"Where'd you go to school?"

"Columbia and Georgetown. You?"

"Yale."

" _Fancy_ ," she remarked.

He laughed. "How old are you?"

"Thirty. How old are you?"

"Forty."

"How long were you married?"

"Wow. Getting to the good stuff already," he said before answering "eighteen years. Have you ever been married?"

She was surprised by the length of his marriage, and she was sure it showed on her face. She answered anyway, "No. Engaged. Didn't last," she said, waving her ringless hand in the air. "How old are your kids?" she asked.

"Karen is ten. Jerry is eight," he said. He realized that they had both finished their drinks rather quickly. He excused himself to the bar and got another round. Sliding another Old Fashioned to her, he asked, "Biggest pet peeve?"

"Billonaires," she answered quickly and then took huge gulp of her beverage.

"Billionaires? That's not a pet peeve," he said, laughing.

"It is. I think they're annoying," she explained, taking another sip. She didn't consider herself a lightweight, but she was starting to feel her second beverage. That didn't stop her from wanting a third.

"As a group, you think all billionaires are annoying?" he questioned. "Even Oprah?"

"Well, not like...them _personally_. Just the _idea_ of a billionaire."

"That doesn't make sense."

"I don't know what you're confused about. You asked. I answered," she said, shrugging "Biggest pet peeve. Go." she continued, warming up to their speed round of questions.

"No. No, let's go back to this," he said. "Why are billionaires so annoying to you?"

She sighed, not wanting to get too political or ideological. But she humored him. "I don't know. I just think having that much money is...amoral."

He raised and eyebrow and chuckled. "Wait, you went from 'they're annoying' to 'they don't have any morals.'"

"Not them personally," she tried to explain again. She was beginning to get animated as evidence by her using her hands to make a point. "Just the _idea_ of them, Fitz."

He didn't say anything. He waited for her to elaborate.

"I think that at a certain point, no one needs that much money. It's just greedy. Hubris, really," she said.

Genuinely intrigued, he leaned in and asked, "So how much money is _too_ _much_ money?"

She shrugged.

"What about millionaires?" he inquired.

"I mean, they're not great," she replied nonchalantly.

"So at what point would you, _personally_ , stop collecting an income and give the money you make away?"

She'd never thought about it before. Considering it, "I don't know,"she replied.

"Do you think you live comfortably?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Could you afford to give some of your salary away?"

"Sure."

"Do you? And not just charity. Do you give away all the money you don't need to survive?"

"Of course not," she said dismissively.

"How are you any different from a billionaire?"

"Well, I'd say the lack of hundreds of millions of dollars in my bank account."

"That's in theory. I mean in practice. How is the way that _you_ operate financially any different from a billionaire? You don't give away all of your excess money. It's all relative."

"Fitz, you're not going to change my mind about this," she said confidently. She moved out of the booth. She wanted another drink. She felt his eyes follow her as she went to the bar to grab another round. She looked over her shoulder and smiled.

When she returned, she knew he was still stuck on her pet peeve. "Are you a billionaire?" she asked, passing him another Jack and coke. She was starting to wonder if she had personally offended him.

"No," he responded with a chuckle. "You're just-" he said and then stopped himself.

"Good. Because you annoy me in a whole different way, so we don't need to add by being a billionaire to the list," she teased. She smiled knowing that he couldn't tell if she was being serious.

" _I_ annoy you? We don't know each other well enough-"

"Oh that doesn't matter," she explained. "I think _all_ straight men are inherently annoying. Just a little bit," she said, using her pointer finger and thumb to demonstrate just how much. Maybe it was the third drink, but she quite enjoyed the puzzled look on his face.

"Go on," he said.

"There's really nothing to expound upon. Straight men are annoying by nature. It's a fact. And if it weren't for women, you all would be extinct. Probably," she stated with confidence.

Speechless, "You are unreal," Fitz finally replied.

"It's true!" she responded.

"Which part?"

"All of it. But particularly the fact that men _need_ women to survive. Women could survive without men."

He raised a finger, but before he could protest, "Biologically maybe not. But socially, it's true," she clarified with gusto. "Men marry women for three reasons," she said.

He sat back in the booth and waited for her to continue.

"To have someone to mommy them, to make them great, and to have someone to fuck," she explained. "You do this under the guise of love. You _think_ that's what love _is_. Or at least what it should be. But really it's just you're own social, evolutionary...incompetence. You need women to survive. It's Darwinsim, basically."

"Men get married because they need women to survive," Fitz repeated, seemingly in slight awe of what she was proposing.

"Yes. And you know, I'm sure in your marriage," she stopped herself. She knew she was tipsy and didn't want to say anything that she would regret or that would seriously offend him. She was sober enough to realize she didn't know him well enough to make assumptions about his love life.

"Go on. Please," Fitz said, amused by her.

"No," she said. Fitz was getting a version of herself that she referred to as 'Girlfriend-Drunk,' the type of drunk that she reserved for wine nights in her condo with her girlfriends.

"Seriously, I'd love to hear this," he insisted. Maybe it was in her head, but he genuinely seemed to be interested in her conversation. He hung onto her every word. She was not used to this level of engagement from a guy.

She huffed and continued despite her better judgement. "I don't want to be presumptuous, but if I had to guess, I would assume, you benefited greatly from being married to a woman. And I don't know her. I'm not saying she was perfect or that maybe she didn't hurt you. But you probably had, in some ways, an easier life because of her."

"You are out of your mind," he said confidently.

"Are you serious?" she said, getting animated again. "You can't deny gender roles, Fitz." But he shook his head instead of agreeing with her. "In your marriage, who was most likely to do the dishes?" she asked and waited for an answer.

"My ex," he replied.

"Right. And who was most likely to do the laundry?"

He sighed, very much knowing where she was going with this. He obliged anyway. "My ex."

"Okay. How often did you make doctors appointments?"

"Not often, but-"

"And if your kids were sick, who did teachers call to pick them up from school?"

"My ex, but that's totally different. I work in construction. They can't be on job sites. It's not safe."

"Well when I have kids," she started. She knew she sounded a bit self-righteous, but she didn't care. "They'll be on the job site with me. They'll have to be because I'm sure the man I marry will conveniently have a job unsuitable for the presence of children," she said, half jokingly. "And their school will call me when they're sick instead of _him_ because I don't have a dick between my legs."

"So you want kids?" he asked as if that was the only thing he took from her rant.

Thinking, "I don't know. Maybe. With the right _man_ , I'm sure I could be convinced," she responded.

"Well look at that. We're good for something," he replied.

"Anyway," she said, rolling her eyes. "I think I made my point."

"Hardly," he retorted. "Men marry women to make them great?" he questioned, very curious to hear the other piece of her argument.

"Oh that's totally true, and you know it," she said before drinking. "At any point in your marriage, did you tell your wife that she 'made you a better man,'" she asked.

"Well of course. And she did. In some ways. And _not_ in the ways that you just mentioned. A housekeeper could do everything you just mentioned."

"A housekeeper who's more than likely a _woman_ , but go on," she interjected.

He was going to explain further, but she blurted out, "How often did you sex?" She immediately regretted the question. "I'm sorry. Don't answer that," she said before he could reply. Despite where the conversation was headed, they were still co-workers. She didn't want to cross a line no matter how much he insisted.

He answered anyway, seemingly unfazed by the question. "In the beginning everyday. Sometimes multiple times a day-"

"So she cooked, cleaned, took care of your children, 'made you a better person' and fucked you multiple times a day? Well, shit. Sign me up. I want a wife, too," she said. He laughed, but her face was serious.

Shaking his head, he replied, "Marriage is not that simple. Marriage is-"

"Please don't say work or sacrifice," she said, cutting him off.

"That's not what I was going to say. But it can be for some people. I wouldn't describe my marriage as _work_ , but it did require a lot of effort. I wouldn't use the word _sacrifice_. My ex might beg to differ, but I would say it was compromise. Lots of compromise," he explained.

"But however you define your marriage, whether it's _work_ versus effort or compromise instead of _sacrifice_ , it's important that the person you're with describes it in the same way. It seems like a small thing, but it's all about perspective," he finished.

"Would you do it again? Marriage?" she asked, drinking the last of her beverage.

"I don't know. I'm sure the right _woman_ could convince me," he said throwing her words back at her with a smirk on his face.

She sat back in the booth and followed his eyes and they followed her face.

"One drink," he teased glancing at the multiple glasses across their table and stared back at her.

She wasn't sure if was the way his eyes lingered on her or the alcohol she consumed, but she was getting warm. Flushed, she picked up her phone for the first time all night to check the time.

"We should get out of here," she suggested, realizing they had been in the bar for hours.

"Yeah," he agreed. But neither moved. She waited for him to do something, anything besides look at her like _that_. Like he was equally attracted to her as she was to him. She scooted out of the booth, stood, and waited for him to do the same. When he finally got up, he seemed to tower over her in a way that she hadn't recalled him doing so before. In a way that made her think about how much she might enjoy leaning up to kiss him as he pressed her against the nearest wall. She knew she needed to get that thought out of her head. They were colleagues after all. So instead of indulging in her thoughts, she lead them out of the bar.


	6. Chapter 6

After a night of downing whiskey, Olivia expected to wake-up feeling sluggish and in no mood to do anything. Fortunately for her, that wasn't the case. She didn't feel at her best, but she did feel invigorated enough to start new designs for the Frazier home.

She planned to leave Nashville a few hours later and figured it'd be best to get as much work done as she could while she was in the city. Wanting a fresh start on her drawings, she decided to return to the Frazier estate. Fitz was right about finding inspiration in the city. She enjoyed downtown Nashville. She liked the people. She liked the vibe. And although she didn't want to admit it to herself, she _really_ liked her time with Fitz.

He was so easy to talk, and it wasn't just the alcohol that kept the conversation flowing. She liked that he seemed so interested in her, in her thoughts and opinions. It was nice.

As much as she wanted to continue talking to him, after they left the bar she insisted on taking a Lyft back to her hotel. She used work as an excuse for her early departure, hoping she could be a little productive before the night's end. In reality, all she did was sit in bed and think about Fitz, wishing she could talk to him more. She had his office number, but they hadn't exchanged personal numbers yet. She quickly regretted it. She wasn't sure what she would even say if she did have his number. Still, it would be nice to have the option.

She had never felt more like a school-girl. Even now, sitting alone, cross-legged on the bare floor in the Frazier home, she couldn't escape thoughts of Fitz. But they were coworkers. She willed herself to stop. Needing something to help her take her mind off him so that she could focus, she grabbed her phone, put in her AirPods and sketched for an hour.

She found a rhythm in her work and was totally oblivious to the fact that she was no longer alone in the room. It wasn't until she heard the exaggerated sound of someone clearing their throat that she looked up. When she saw Fitz staring at her with a grin on his face, she couldn't help but beam back at him. She took her AirPods out of her ear, dropped them, and hopped up off the floor.

"Hi!" she greeted, not even trying to play it cool. She couldn't hide that she was delighted to see him. It was a far cry from the last time they met unexpectedly.

"Hi," he replied, moving toward her in the center of the room. She swore he seemed to get hotter every time she laid eyes on him. It was ridiculous. Her stomach felt like it was twirling as he approached. She couldn't remember the last time she felt butterflies.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. Though she expected to be alone in the house, she certainly didn't mind his company.

"I could make up an excuse about how I needed more measurements or how I was trying to get idea on what materials to order, but-. You know," he said with a smirk, as if she did in fact know what he was trying to imply.

Grinning, "No, I don't know," she replied.

He stepped closer to her. "I figured you'd be here," he said plainly.

"Oh?" she retorted, slightly confused by the assumption.

"Well, we did ride together last night so I figured you'd probably have to get your rental at some point," he said gesturing toward the driveway.

She nodded. He was partially right. "Feels a little stalkerish," she teased.

"Just a hunch," he said with a shrug.

"What did you want to see me about?" She asked. A small part of her thought it might be work related, but most of her hoped it wouldn't be.

He inched toward her, leaving a gap between them. "To be honest, I don't know."

She raised an eyebrow and waited for him to speak again.

"I really enjoyed last night," he said.

"I did too. I hope I wasn't too...invasive." All night, she worried that she was too much or that she had offended him.

"Not at all," he assured her, moving a little closer to her. She appreciated the woodsy scent of his cologne as he neared her. With every step he took, it began to set in that this thing between them, this tension of sorts, was real, not just in her head. She didn't know what it was, but she felt it. And she knew he felt it too.

Her last defense, an attempt to convince herself that she should keep her distance, that their relationship was professional, "I think we'll work well together," she said softly.

"I do too," he whispered, closing the small space between them.

He pulled her against him, placing his hands on her hips, and looked down at her almost as if he was waiting for her to protest. Without a second thought, she leaned up and kissed him. It was delicate, tentative at first, but as he steadily brushed his lips against hers, she stopped holding back. He circled her waist with his arms as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It felt so good, like a sense of relief, to have her body pressed against his. But somehow the feeling of his tongue touching hers felt even better. He slid his hands to her ass, cupping it gently, as she sucked his lips and tongue. The way he held her and touched her with fabric between them made her wish she could feel his bare hands against her skin. She throbbed between her thighs hearing him groan against her lips. But hearing the abrupt sound of her phone's alarm, she slowly pulled away. She looked at his kiss swollen lips, before moving out of his grasp to retrieve her phone. When she stopped the ringing, they stared at each other. She felt utterly dazed.

"I-"

"I'm" They spoke at the same time. She smiled and moved toward him as if being close to him was normal. He pulled her into his grasp again.

"I have to catch my flight. I didn't want to lose track of time," said, trying to explain the purpose of the alarm as if he had asked.

Understanding, he nodded as he gently rubbed circles against her back. She liked standing in his arms. It felt so natural. His touch was exhilarating and soothing at the same time. She didn't understand it.

"I gotta go," she said, but didn't make a move to leave. He nodded again, seeming to take in every detail of her face. Blushing, she reluctantly broke from his embrace to quickly gather her belongings. He wordlessly watched as she moved about the room. When everything was collected, her bags in her hands, she approached him.

"I um...I just realized," she started, sounding a bit bashful. "Can I have your number?" she asked with a giggle?

He chuckled. "Of course," he responded before pecking her lips.

* * *

"So he's a good kisser?" Abby asked Olivia, taking a sip of the freshly brewed tea Olivia made for them. She wasn't planning on having girl chat in the middle of her work day, but when Abby called and told her that she was near the office running errands, Olivia jumped at the chance to see her friend. Being a mother of a toddler, meant that time with Abby was a rarity. The timing couldn't have been better. Olivia was dying to tell her about Fitz and the kiss they shared.

Both of them kicked off their heels and sat with their feet up on the couch in Olivia's office. Olivia groaned before replying, " _Sooo_ good. Honestly, no one should be that good."

Abby laughed at her friend's seemingly disappointed tone. "Are you going to see him again?" she asked.

"Well, I'm going to have to. We work together," Olivia explained.

Abby rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. Are you going to _see_ him again?"

"I don't know. Maybe," Olivia responded, sounding utterly conflicted. "I mean I like talking to him. But we _do_ work together. And it's not just that. I don't know if I'm ready. Or if he's even that interested," she said.

"He kissed you, Liv. He's gotta be a little interested."

"Technically _I_ kissed him. But we exchanged numbers yesterday, and he hasn't called or texted."

"Have you called him?"

"No, but-"

"Call him," Abby directed.

"No," she scoffed. " _He's_ the guy. He should-"

Cutting her off, "Liv, you preach equal rights _this_. And double standards _that_. All day long. And now you're telling me you can't call a _man_ because he has to call you first," Abby said sharply. "Bullshit."

"I'm not saying that," Olivia tried to explain.

"Then, what are you saying?"

"I-I don't know," she said with a sigh. She thought aloud. "I just- I don't _want_ to like him. And I don't know that I want to even spend time getting to know him or anyone else for that matter. I actually _like_ where I am right now. I _like_ only worrying about _me_. And not worrying about if I'm disappointing someone. Or if something I _said_ or something I _did_ is going to make someone else upset. I don't want to care if someone is mad at me. I don't want to stress about what I look like or"

Interrupting her, "Not all men are like _him_." Abby said, grabbing Olivia's hand as she noticed tears start to form.

"I know that," Olivia said, desperately trying not to cry.

"Do you? Because it seems like you've spent the last year avoiding men, even the idea of them, because you think they might be like Edison."

Olivia wiped her eyes and tried to processs Abby's words. "Listen, I know you're scared. It's okay to be. And I know you weren't expecting to find a guy who sparks your interest. But it's happening. And it's not the end of the world. Get to know him, and if you really like him, great. If you don't, you can move on. This is not going to be like the last time. You're a completely different person now. You're not going to make the same mistakes," Abby assured her.

Olivia nodded as Abby leaned in to hug her. "Trust yourself and your judgement," she said, giving Olivia a comforting squeeze. Pulling away from their embrace, "Plus, if he's that good of a kisser, the sex is going to be-"

Not letting her finish, "Abby!" Olivia replied with a laugh.

Glancing at her watch, "I gotta get rolling," Abby said. "Your niece has a playdate in thirty," she said as she moved to grab her purse and head out the door. "Love you. _Call him_ ," Abby said as she exited her office.

Olivia hadn't realized how much she needed to simply cry and talk. Feeling more assured, she decided she was going to reach out to Fitz. She put her heels back on and moved to sit behind her desk. As she made herself comfortable in her chair, Quinn knocked on her glass office door before entering. She carried a neatly wrapped package and placed it on Olivia's desk. "This just came for you," she said in a hurry before leaving just as quickly as she entered.

Confused, Olivia inspected the box wrapped in black wrapping paper and a tied in a white bow. She opened it, carefully removing tissue paper to get to its contents. She wasn't sure what to expect, but she laughed aloud seeing a collage picture frame with black and white photos of Oprah, Bill Gates, and Warren Buffet. She knew who it was from immediately, but picked up the monogrammed stationary at the bottom of the box and read it anyway:

 _If I promise to be less annoying than these guys, will you have dinner with me?-Fitz_

She put the frame on her desk, alongside framed photographs of her god-daughter and her late mother, so that it blended with her other personal effects. Smiling embarrassingly hard, she grabbed her phone and snapped a photo of it. Typing and then deleting text, she tried to think of a witty or sarcastic reply to send along with the photo. But she stopped herself realizing that for the first time in a long time she felt comfortable simply being honest with a man.

 **I would love nothing more than to have dinner with you.**

She sent the message and gleefully waited for his reply.

* * *

 **AN: Thank you so much for the feedback on the last few chapters! I love reading it. Y'alls feedback has always been so great in helping me shape my stories. If you like something, please let me know! if you don't, also let me know!**


	7. Chapter 7

Olivia didn't love social media, but that didn't stop her from occasionally lurking online. On a Friday night, she was half a bottle deep in Merlot as she scrolled through Instagram. Maybe it was a bit invasive, but she had one goal in mind: Find Fitz and get a glimpse of his life.

He didn't totally strike her as the social media type, so she wasn't surprised to find that he didn't have much of a profile. There were only two photos on his page: one of a newly constructed home and the other of a sunset with the caption ' **beautiful sunset**.'

It was the ultimate dad post. She couldn't help, but giggle. She clicked on his tagged photos, and similarly, there were few. There was photo of him running in some sort of marathon, and one of him overlooking a construction site with a hardhat. There was nothing of significance. That is, until she scrolled and found a photo of a little girl and toddler-aged boy sitting between him and a brunette woman. They were sitting on brick steps of a ranch-style house.

Intrigued, she quickly clicked on the post. She read the handle **melliegrant** and knew immediately that this was his ex-wife. The photo was from three years ago. Wearing color coordinated plaid shirts and jeans, they each smiled widely. This was Americana personified. They looked like they could have been featured in a GAP ad. She read the caption, ' **Happy Birthday, Karen. Can't believe you're seven. So happy I get to be your mama.** '

There was something a little creepy about clicking on his ex's profile, but curiosity got the best of her. Her bio read: **Mama of two. Beliver. Lawyer. Lover of wine.**

From a quick scan of her photo grid, she seemed less like an attorney and more like an influencer. Every photo seemed to have a similar filter and finish. She scrolled through her grid and randomly clicked on photos. There was a more recent candid photo of Mellie, Karen, and a little boy who she assumed was Jerry eating ice cream on a dock. Underneath the photo, Mellie wrote, ' **My favorite tiny humans. I will cherish days like this forever #momlife.'**

Olivia couldn't stop clicking on photos. There was a picture from three years ago of Mellie in a huge, empty walk-in closet with storage space to envy a retail store. The caption read,

'T **he hubs built the closet of my dreams. #closetgoals #happywifehappylife**.'

There was another candid photo of Mellie watching Jerry swing a bat at a baseball game with the caption,

 **'My best boy hit a home run today. Proud mama.'**

She went back to the photo of Fitz, Karen, Jerry and Mellie. It was the only photo of Fitz on Mellie's page. Their matching outfits were cheesy, but they looked genuinely happy together. Mellie with her dark brown hair and blue eyes seemed so different from Olivia. It was hard for Olivia to imagine how Fitz could be attracted to her and at one time be attracted to Mellie. Their worlds and their tastes were not the same.

Feeling slightly unsettled, she left Mellie's page. As soon as she closed the app, her phone vibrated. It was a text from Fitz as if he had been reading her mind.

 _ **Just thinking about you. Can't wait to see you next week. Dress casually.**_

The feeling was mutual. She hadn't been on a date since she ended the engagement with Edison nearly a year ago. She was looking forward to spending time with him and getting to know him better. And if social media was any indication, there was so much she didn't know about him.

* * *

Being in the same room with a person you desperately wanted to kiss but couldn't was a test of patience Olivia never expected she'd have to endure. But that was her current predicament. She arrived in Nashville and drove straight from the airport to meet with Fitz, Mrs. Fraizer, and an engineer named Sam Burton at the estate. Relieved that Mrs. Fraizer approved of her second set of designs, they were officially moving on to the next step of the project. With Sam's sign-off, they could begin renovation. Sam Burton was a burly middle-aged man with quite possibly the thickest accent she'd ever heard. She could barely understand him.

With the engineer in tow, Mrs. Fraizer led them around the property as Fitz and Olivia followed behind. She was trying to be professional and take notes of Sam's suggestions, but Fitz was making it difficult. It wasn't just because he looked overwhelmingly handsome with his biceps exploding from the sleeves of his rolled up t-shirt. Every time Sam spoke, Fitz mocked his southern drawl. She couldn't stop giggling.

"Now if ya plan to vault these here ceilings, you'll have to git a ridge beam," Sam explained slowly, adding extra syllables in almost every word.

Fitz leaned over to Olivia and whispered, " _git_ a ridge beam."

"Stop," Olivia mouthed with a smile. She walked ahead of him, attempting to focus on Sam's instructions.

"Now this beam here," Sam said pointing to the kitchen ceiling. "It's a little cattywampus, so you'll have to fix that."

"Right. Cattywampus. We'll fix that," Fitz repeated, feigning interest.

He waited until Sam and Mrs. Fraizer were slightly out of earshot and whispered to Olivia. " _Cattywampus_?"

"Behave," she advised, still smiling, knowing it was a lost cause.

Mrs. Fraizer guided them to the backyard where Sam advised them how to safely extend the patio. Fitz and Olivia continued to trail slightly behind. When he thought no one was looking, he placed a hand on Olivia's back. His touch gave her goosebumps. But when Sam and Mrs. Fraizer turned to ask them a question. He quickly pulled it away. She was dying to be alone with him, but it wasn't looking likely with Sam and Mrs. Fraizer chattering about.

So distracted by Fitz, she hadn't realized they reached the end of their house tour. Before she knew it, Sam was shaking her hand and dismissing himself. With Sam gone, Mrs. Fraizer eyed Fitz and Olivia up and down, but didn't say a word.

"So it looks like we got the go ahead to start," Olivia said, breaking the silence.

"So it seems," Mrs. Fraizer replied, suspicion evident in her tone.

"It's going to be a beautiful project, Jane. Did I tell you I found the tile you wanted? We should be able to import it in time" Fitz said, attempting to diffuse whatever inclination Mrs. Fraizer might have had.

It seemed to work. Delighted, "Oh wonderful, dear. It will be beautiful in the master bath," Mrs. Fraizer replied. "That reminds me, Liv, I found the most beautiful vintage sconces for the downstairs bath. They're just up the road. Why don't you come with me to grab them? It won't take long." she insisted.

Olivia checked the time on her phone. She technically had time, although it was the last thing she wanted to do with it. All she wanted was a moment alone with Fitz. That was looking unlikely. At least not until their date later that day. "Uh. Sure," she hesitantly agreed.

"And Fitz, I'll see you tomorrow, right? You'll be at the barbecue." Mrs. Fraizer stated as fact. The barbecue in question was an annual summer party in Belle Meade, a ritzy suburb of Nashville. Despite its posh location and notable guest list, it was a rather informal event.

Fitz seemed totally put on the spot and looked to Olivia as if she knew his schedule or could give him an out. She stood silent. "I'm actually-" he began.

"Of course you'll be there," Mrs. Fraizer interjected. "You too, Liv. Everyone is dying to meet you," she said.

Similarly, Olivia looked to Fitz. She wasn't sure who _everyone_ was. And from the look on Fitz's face, she also wasn't sure if he wanted her there. "Okay, maybe," Olivia responded, sounding uncertain.

"Great! I'll see you tomorrow, Fitz. Liv, we must get going," Mrs. Fraizer said, pulling Olivia toward the door. Olivia turned to Fitz and shrugged, a bit confused about going to the party and confused about the spontaneous shopping trip.

Seeming equally bemused, he watched as they left the home.

* * *

When Fitz told Olivia to dress casually, she had no idea what she was getting herself into. In Cenntenial Park, sitting on a bench in jean shorts, a white t-shirt, and black slip-on sneakers, she wasn't sure if she was underdressed. She accessorized with a black designer belt and sunglasses, hoping to bring some balance to her causal look. She pinned her straightened hair half up, taking advantage of the fact that the air wasn't as sticky or thick as her previous trips. She had never donned a low-key look on a date. Edison was not that type of guy. But she liked the idea of a low-key date, even if she didn't love casual attire.

Cennential Park was midsize and had a nice mixture of greenery and paved walking space. It was fairly busy for a weekday evening. But it was summer, filled with a mix of couples, singles, and families. It was quaint in the way that she had come to love and expect of Nashville. She liked that Fitz wanted to meet there.

She looked at her phone for the time. He wasn't late, but as evidence by her bouncing leg, she was a little anxious to see him. She sent him a text.

 _ **I'm here.**_

He replied.

 _ **I see you.**_

She looked up and pushed her sunglass on top of her head. She smiled upon seeing him drive that loud, oversized pick-up truck in the parking lot. The noise of it seemed to get the attention of strangers, some of them looking in his direction. She beamed as he got out of the truck and walked to her.

When he was within arms reach, he circled his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She ran her hands down his chest before resting her arms around his neck. She didn't understand how being in his embrace felt new and old at the same time.

"Hi," she stated softly.

Without uttering a word, he kissed her. She normally hated PDA. But she gladly deepened it, pressing her body further into his, grasping at the hair on his neck while he held her. She loved the taste of him, his familiar scent, and the way his scruff felt along her face. If it weren't for the the whistling they heard from a passerby gawking at them, she wouldn't have pulled away.

"Hi," he greeted, finding a bit of amusement in her embarrassed face. He pecked her lips and sighed like being with her, kissing her was his greatest relief. "I've wanted to do that all day," he said.

She nodded in agreement. It was worth the wait. "So...what are we doing tonight?" she asked, unwilling to leave his embrace.

"I was thinking, we could maybe take a stroll. There's a conservatory if you want to see that. And there's a little lake. Oh, and there are food trucks everywhere if you're hungry," he explained.

She honestly didn't care what they did. She just wanted to be with him. She freed herself from his hold, but he took her hand in his immediately and pulled them in the direction of a walking path.

"How was your shopping trip with Jane?" he asked as they began to walk along the sidewalk.

Groaning, "That woman is something else," she replied. "Do you think, she, like, _knows_ about us? She didn't say anything, but..."

"No. And it doesn't matter anyway. We're adults."

"I know, but-"

"It doesn't matter," he said again, pulling her closer to his side and kissing the the side of her head. His tone was so soothing. It had a way of easing any of her anxieties.

"Are you going to go to that thing she mentioned? The barbecue?" she asked.

Fitz sighed. "I actually kind of have to be there. My company is one of the sponsors. It's a work thing really. Not a party for me."

Olivia wasn't sure if that was a sign that she shouldn't attend. "Well, I don't have to go-"

Sensing her apprehension, "No, I would love it if you came," he assured her. "I would have invited you myself, but I didn't think you'd want to come."

"You didn't think I'd want to attend?" she asked with a raised brow and a smile. "Do I strike you as someone who doesn't want Nashville barbecue. I'm offended," she teased.

He chuckled, and she savored the sound of it. She loved the sound of his voice, his laugh. This was becoming a situation.

As they continued their stroll, she noticed a couple of electric scooters resting against a tree.

"Race ya!" she said as she ran toward them. He followed after her and watched as she pulled out her phone and downloaded an app to use it. He followed suit, enjoying the sheer glee on her face.

He managed to get his scooter unlocked before her despite her quick start. As she hopped on her scooter, Fitz was already leading her by a few yards. Olivia loved a competition and despised losing. She felt a wave of adrenalin course through her body as she accelerated. Grinning, he turned to look at her from behind him. "Better catch up!" he called to her. He was only a few feet away. She was certain that she could lap him.

As soon as he turned and looked ahead, Olivia suddenly saw his body come crashing down, the scooter falling with him. Stunned and confused, Olivia hopped off her scooter and ran to him. "Fitz!" she screamed, bending down to help him up. He looked dazed and pained. Strangers watched as he gathered his bearings. With his hand covering his head, he slowly stood up. Olivia attempted to help brace him. "Are you okay?!" she asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he said, trying to dust off the grass and asphalt debris, using the one hand that didn't cover the side of his head.

"What happened?" Olivia asked. She looked around to try to understand how he went from cruising perfectly to toppling down. Then, she noticed they were standing on uneven pavement. "Fuck," she said at the realization.

She quickly scanned his body and his face, looking for signs of injury. "Are you _sure_ you're okay?" she asked.

Getting back to his senses, his voice sounded a bit more assured. "I'm good," he said. He removed his hand from the side of his head. Blood dripped from his palm.

"Oh my god, Fitz, you're bleeding!" she yelled in a panic. It was as if her screaming made him come to the realization that there was in fact blood on his face and hands. He hadn't noticed until that moment. She turned him so that she could see his head fully. There was a gash above his temple. "Holy shit. We have to go to the hospital!" she demanded. The bleeding wasn't profuse, but it was enough to have her in a full scale melt down.

"I'm fine. It's fine" he said calmly.

She quickly ushered them from the sidewalk to the parking lot, trying to be mindful of his injury. He was walking fine, but she still attempted to use her body as a crutch. His car was closer than her rental, so she dug in his pocket for the keys and rapidly marched them to the vehicle. "I can drive," he insisted, keeping his hand on his cut, attempting to apply pressure.

"You cannot drive! Get in," she said, helping him get inside the car. Once he was in the passenger seat, she rushed to the drive's side, and launched herself in the driver's seat. She opened the glove compartment, looking for napkins. She found a a few and passed them to him. She buckled him up before strapping her own seatbelt, and raced out of the parking lot.

* * *

Sitting beside Fitz as he laid in a hospital bed was not how she envisioned their first date. But she didn't care that their first date was ruined. All she cared about was Fitz being okay. And thankfully he was fine. He didn't have to wait to be seen. Head injuries apparently took priority. She held his hand as he completed intake paperwork and didn't let go of it while a nurse stiched his wound. Luckily, it wasn't too deep. But because of his dazed demeanor, the doctor ordered a CT scan to diagnosis a possible concussion. She anxiously awaited the results with him. He was annoyingly calm about the whole thing.

"You good?" he asked her for what must have been the tenth time that night.

"I'm fine. I'm on _this_ side of the bed. I'm _fine_ ," she said firmly. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it before giving it a squeeze.

"Thank you for doing this," he said.

"I didn't do anything," she replied, shrugging it off.

"For being here. Staying here. You really don't have-"

"When you go, I'll go," she said, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she was feeling. There was no chance in hell she was leaving him right now.

She couldn't shake her nerves, but hoped it didn't show. She knew Fitz's injury was fairly minor, and that he was going to be okay. Still, she could barely regulate her breathing or heart rate.

His stomach growled loudly interrupting her inward spiral. It made them both laugh. She didn't have much of an appetite, but clearly he was hungry.

Standing, "There's a vending machine down the hall. I'm going to-"

"No, stay," he interjected.

"You're hungry! I'll be right back," she asserted.

She left the room to find the vending machine that she swore they passed when they entered his hospital room. She stopped in the middle of the hall. Alone for the first time all night, she closed her eyes and took a breath. Before she knew it, she was pacing the halls of the hospital. Being in the ER, was bringing up memories she wanted to avoid.

"Are you alright, honey?" a nurse who entered the hall asked.

Olivia looked up, realizing she was being watched. "Yeah. Sorry. Just looking for the vending machines."

The nurse pointed to the direction of the machines and continued walking. Olivia took two more breaths and moved to the vending machines. There were so many options. She was parralyzed for a moment before selecting 5 bags of chips, 2 candy bars, and a pack of crackers. She also chose a bottled frappuccino, a bottle of water, and a Coke before returning to Fitz's room.

He looked surprised when she returned with her hands full of snacks. "I didn't know what you wanted," she explained before he could question it.

She set them on the table near his bed and sat down in the chair beside him. As she settled in it, she couldn't stop her legs from shaking. Though she had just sat down, she wanted to get back up. She was trying to be patient and calm. She was failing miserably, and he noticed.

"Liv," he said softly, reaching for her hand. It was the first time he'd called her that. She loved the way her name sounded on his tongue. "I'm fine," he tried to convince her.

"I know. I know," she said.

"Then what is it?" he asked.

"Nothing. I'm fine! I promise," she replied unconvincingly.

He stared at her, waiting for her to say something other than the lie they both knew she was telling. She adjusted her hair and stared at the floor before looking back at him. "Hospitals. You know? They're just...who loves them?" she said with a nervous, chuckle. She tried to keep her tone light.

He stayed silent, trying to read her face. "It's just. The last time-" she started and stopped. Her voice began to crack and tears began to form. "I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling mortified. She didn't want him to think that this was about him, or that he did anything wrong, or that she wasn't _fine_ being by his side. So she continued. "The last time I came to an ER, I was with my mom. She had this really bad cold that she couldn't shake for a week. We thought it was just the flu or something. But it wasn't just the flu. She couldn't...she didn't leave with me, so."

He sat up in his bed and moved over to allow some space.

"C'mere," he said, squeezing her hand. She didn't move. "Fitz, it's fine," she replied, wiping her tears with her free hand.

"Get up here," he responded. She reluctantly obliged and climbed in the small hospital bed with him. It was a snug fit, but she rested alongside his body comfortably. She laid her head on his chest and he held her. The sound of his breathing gave her a small bit of comfort.

"I'm so sorry," he said quietly in her hair. She turned so that they were face-to-face. "If you need to leave, I understand."

"No! It really is fne. It's been a couple of years. I don't even know why I'm-," she tried to explain, but didn't have the words yet.

"You're a strong person. And a good person," he said with so much conviction it made her want to believe it was true. "Thank you for being here with me. I mean it," he said.

She nodded and leaned in to nuzzle his nose. She kissed him softly on his lips. She could tell he wanted a bit more as she pulled away.

She waited a moment before speaking and smiled. "You know, you really owe me a do-over first date."

He laughed and pinched her side. "Worst first date ever," she continued to goad.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" he asked.

"You've got that thing," she said, reminding him of the barbecue. "But I'll be there unless you don't want-"

"Of course I want you there. But that's not a date. Our do-over date cannot be a work function."

"As long as it doesn't involve scooters. We should probably take that off the list," she said.

"Or bikes," he added.

"skateboards, a hard no, just to be safe" she joked. She realized, being in his arms, sharing a little bit of herself with him, she didn't feel nearly as anxious. She felt like she could tell him more, tell him anything. And he would listen and keep her safe.

"About tomorrow," he said, clearing his throat. "I should tell you that my ex is going to be there. And some of her family will probably be there, too. I didn't want you to be caught off guard. And if you don't want to come, I totally get it."

She thought about it for a moment. She honestly didn't care who was present. She wanted to get to know him more. She just wanted to be with him.

"As long as you're there, I think I'll be fine," she replied. And she knew for a fact that it was true.


	8. Chapter 8

Olivia insisted that she and Fitz drive separately to the Belle Meade barbecue. Since Mrs. Fraizer extended the invite, she wanted to maintain some level of professionalism. However, as she walked toward a massive Colonial home, she wished that he was by her side. Olivia considered herself a social person. She could talk to anyone. She killed at parties. Still, there was something intimidating about entering such an excessively formal home alone. She wasn't even certain whose home it belonged to. She just knew that they were clearly very wealthy. If the driveway and side streets filled with luxury cars were any indication, the guest list was filled with just as many rich people.

She wasn't sure if she should ring the doorbell or knock on the door. Before she could do either, a greeter in all white opened the door for her.

"Welcome! May I have your name please?" the greeter asked, holding a clipboard.

Surprised by the welcome, "Olivia Pope," she responded.

The greeter scanned her clipboard, flipped a few pages before nodding.

"Yes, Ms. Pope," right this way, the greeter replied, ushering her through the home.

Olivia couldn't help but admire the home's aesthetic. Her designer brain made notes of the decor and the finishes she would change if she was renovating it. The greeter showed her to the backyard and quickly dismissed herself.

The backyard seemed to go on for acres. There were at least a hundred people filling it. There was a medium sized pool near the patio, but lush greenery stretched beyond it. On a quick glance, Olivia noticed two formal gardens landscaped to perfection. String lights hung between trees, giving the formality of the landscaping a touch of warmth. At the side of the yard, there was a chic, refurbished camper as a mobile bar with barstools perched in front it. On the other side of the yard, there was a pit-master cooking on an open fire. The smoky smell of barbecue was making her hungry. Waitstaff in all white moved in out and of the crowd, carrying trays of drinks and hors d'oeuvrs. Nineties country music roared from speakers. Olivia didn't recognize a single song, but she didn't mind the sound of it.

She adjusted the thin straps of her floral skater dress, which she paired with ankle strap sandals. She thought she might be slightly overdressed for a barbecue, but looking at the other guests, her attire was perfect for the occasion.

She scanned the crowed and immediately noticed Mrs. Fraizer standing with two cocktails in her hand near the pool. Mrs. Fraizer seemingly noticed Olivia at the same time. She urgently rushed towards her. "Liv, I'm so glad you made it!" Mrs. Fraizer enthusiastically greeted.

"Thanks for inviting me," she responded.

"Here," Mrs. Fraizer said, shoving one of the drinks she carried in Olivia's direction. Though she wasn't expecting to drink so early in the evening, Olivia politely accepted it. "Now, I think these might be the best Mint Juleps you've ever had," Mrs. Fraizer insisted. It was clear by how loud and expressive she was speaking that she had partaken in quite a few Mint Juleps. It was nice to see her so relaxed.

"You must meet Gloria," Mrs. Fraizer said, taking Olivia by the hand before she could protest. "Now between you and me, her home needs to be upgraded. Bless her heart, she has such simple taste. She's old money, but a real country girl at heart" Mrs. Fraizer tried to explain a whisper.

Olivia couldn't help but find Mrs. Fraizer's gossip amusing. She walked with her through the crowd until they met with a small group of older women each with varying degrees of big, white hair. From their fingers to their earlobes, they dripped in diamonds, each holding a different type of cocktail. They looked like someone's very rich, very cool grandmothers, and they were in the middle of what looked like an intense conversation.

"Ladies!" Mrs. Fraizer said, getting their attention. "This is Olivia my designer. She's doing the Brentwood remodel," she explained. They turned their attention to Olivia, dropping their previous conversation.

They each gave her a once over. And they all spoke at once.

"Olivia, you work is amazing!"

"Those renderings are to die for."

"It will be a beautiful home."

"Where are you sourcing that tile?!"

Olivia was a bit taken aback by their interest in her work, but was no less flattered.

"Liv, this is Susan, Martha Anne, Gloria, and Elizabeth," Mrs. Frazier explained, pointing to each of them as she introduced them.

"It's nice to meet you all," Olivia replied, as they brought her into their circle. She spent the next few minutes talking about her work and answering all of their design questions. They were a lively, funny bunch of women. But as she spoke to them, she kept looking around for Fitz. She was dying to see him as if they hand't spent most the night together. He luckily didn't have a concussion, but they both thought it would be best if he went home and tried to get some rest. In reality, all she wanted was to be with him. Never had she wanted to spend so much time with a man. It was so odd. She figured it was because he was so easy to be around.

She wanted to excuse herself from the group, but also didn't want to be rude. Right as the conversation was starting to dwindle, she felt a hand on her lower back.

"Well look who it is!" Mrs. Fraizer said, looking over Olivia.

Olivia turned and blushed seeing Fitz. In a button down shirt and slacks, this was the most dressed up she'd seen him. It was unreal how handsome he was.

"Fitzgerald Grant, how are you my love?" Elizabeth said, moving to greet him with a hug. Fitz seemed to know each of them. He hugged them individually before standing beside Olivia. Olivia wanted to reach for his hand or hug him too, but she couldn't.

"I figured my favorite ladies were somewhere around here?" he said to the group with a smile. "Liz, how are the grandkids?" he asked.

He was clearly familiar with each of them. And he was effortlessly charming. Olivia was finding it hard to stand still when she was around him.

"She's great. Just started her first year at UT." Elizabeth replied.

"And Gloria, did Jim tell you we did a round at the lodge? He wouldn't stop talking about your cherry pie. You'll have to make one for the kids" he said.

Gloria beamed, "I told you I would anytime, sweetheart" she replied.

"Well, this is the dream team," Mrs. Fraizer said, pointing at Fitz and Olivia. "I just know you both will do a lovely job with reno," Mrs. Fraizer said proudly.

"We appreciate the confidence," Fitz said on their behalf. Olivia nodded in agreement.

"I have to do the rounds. But it was lovely seeing all of you," Fitz explained. As the ladies started to talk amongst themselves, he leaned down and whispered to Olivia, "Meet me inside in five," he said before quickly dismissing himself.

Olivia's face flushed. The sound of his voice just did her in.

"You okay, dear?" Mrs. Fraizer asked, noticing Olivia's slight change in demeanor.

"Yeah, no I'm fine," Olivia said, trying not to be conspicuous. "I'm just going to get some water," Olivia explained.

She quickly left the group and headed toward the home, dropping her empty cocktail on a waiter's tray. She had absolutely no idea where she was going when she entered the home. Aside from waitstaff and caterers, there were hardly any guests inside. She walked down the long halls, peaking her head in rooms trying to find Fitz.

Suddenly, she was yanked by the arm and pulled inside a tiny room. She nearly screamed, but a hand covered her mouth, preventing her from making any noise. It look her a moment to realize it was Fitz and that they were in a powder room.

"Fitz! You fucking scared me!" she said, her voice booming when he lifted his hand from her mouth.

He laughed and pulled her against his body as she tried to get her bearings.

"Sshh," he said, trying to quiet her.

"It's not funny," she said in a whisper. But she was indeed smiling.

"It's kind of funny," he replied, his hands moving up and down her back.

When her heart rate settled, she wrapped her arms around his neck and shifted to examine his wound. It looked a lot better. His injury was visible only up close.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Good. Better now," he said, his hands moving to her butt as he held her.

It was quiet for a moment. She reveled in his embrace.

"You look beautiful," he said, breaking their silence.

She kissed him in response. She could kiss him all day, all night if he'd let her. She loved the way his lips clung to hers, loved the way he chased after her tongue with his. He gripped her ass through the fabric of her dress. She wished he would slide his hands underneath it. She nearly raised her dress up so that she could feel his palms against her flesh, but when she leaned in closer and felt his arousal against her thigh, she pulled away quickly. They both knew they were getting carried away.

His lipstick covered face was utterly dazed.

"Can we get out of here?" he asked in a huff. She broke their embrace only to grab a tissue to clean his kiss swollen lips and face.

"Isn't this your event? You can't just leave. And we certainly cannot leave together," she said.

He sighed knowing that she might be right.

"Okay. Why don't you leave first. Meet me at my place? There's a key under the mat," he said. "We can... I don't know...What do the kids say? 'Netflix and nap.'"

She laughed hard and shook hear head. "Netflix and chill?" she corrected.

"Yeah. That thing."

Laughing, "I don't think that means what you think it means. And I don't think the kids say that anymore," she said.

"Okay, well, can we just pop some popcorn, drink beer and watch a movie at my place?"

Giggling, "Yeah I like that plan," she agreed.

She kissed him again and then pulled him in for another before getting herself together so they could exit the powder room. He grabbed her hand as she turned the knob.

He kissed her shoulder as they entered the hall. She couldn't stop herself from giggling. She was giddy when she was with him.

"Ahem," they heard from the end of the hall. They turned towards the sound and Olivia felt like her heart dropped as she looked ahead. She immediately recognized Mellie Grant. How could she not? Her dark brown hair made her blue eyes all the more piercing. She had the most memorable face. Mellie stood before them in a sleek, green wrap dress and a similar pair of ankle sandals as Olivia's. She was seemed equally surprised to see them as they were to see her.

"Hey, Mel," Fitz said casually. Olivia let go of his hand. She wasn't totally sure of the right way to respond to getting caught leaving a bathroom with a man she had been making out with.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Mellie asked firmly.

"Yeah. Of course," he said, but didn't leave Olivia's side.

Sensing a bit of tension, "I think I'm gonna go," Olivia said, trying to dismiss herself. Before she could leave, Fitz pulled her toward him. "See you in a bit, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed, leaving the two to talk alone.

She wasn't sure what to make of that encounter, but this time she really needed water. She rushed to the mobile bar and sat down on one of the barstools.

"What are you having?" the bartender asked.

"Just a water," she requested.

"Just a water?" a man seated beside her responded. She turned to see a middle aged man with brown hair and blue eyes sitting beside her. He looked oddly familiar.

"Yep. Just a water," she confirmed. She knew her tone indicated that she wasn't in the mood for small talk.

"Good for you," he said, chugging some form of bourbon. "This stuff's overrated. I'm Will by the way," he said, extending his hand to shake.

"Olivia," she said, shaking his hand.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked.

"Uh, I'm not really sure," she replied, trying to figure out if they might have run into each other before.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"D.C. I'm just here visiting."

"I work in D.C." he said, excitedly as if he had solved the mystery.

"What do you do?"

"Boring government shit," he explained dismissively.

She chuckled as she examined his appearance. He was well manicured with coiffed hair, expensive shoes and an even flashier watch.

"And your work?" he asked.

"Definitely not boring government shit. Though I know _all_ about that," she replied.

"Is this guy bothering you?" Olivia heard Fitz voice from behind her and smiled. She turned in her seat to face him and shook her head no.

"Good. He's known to be a bit of a nuisance," he said in a lighthearted tone.

"Bit of a nuisance my ass," Will responded. "More like the reason you're able to throw this high-fluent shindig. When are all these bastards leaving my house, anyway?" he jokingly said.

Fitz turned to the bartender and said. "I think this guy's had enough. Let's stop while we're ahead."

Olivia sat in her seat unsure of what was going on or how the two men knew each other. But it was clear that they were familiar with each other. She didn't know what to make of their slightly sharp yet seemingly easy-going dynamic.

Sensing her confusion, "Liv, this is Will Taft. Part-time asshole and my former brother in law," Fitz explained.

"That's Representative Taft to you, dip-shit," Will replied.

"Soon to be one-term representative," Fitz added to his introduction.

Olivia knew she looked surprised as hell. But it was starting to click why he looked so familiar. His resemblance to Mellie was uncanny. On top of that, he was a congressman, a world that she was all too familiar with.

"It's a real wonder how you even got elected," Fitz quipped.

"You can't stop the will of the people, brother," Will said.

Fitz groaned and rubbed Olivia's back. "We should get going," he said to her. Olivia was beyond shocked that Fitz felt comfortable with any sort of affection around his ex-wife's brother. She did not understand this family relationship in the slightest.

More than ready to leave, she hopped out of her seat. "How's Big Poppa treating you?" Will said as the two were about to depart. Olivia raised an eyebrow at Will and turned to Fitz.

"That's what he calls his truck," Fitz clarified for her. She laughed and waited for Fitz to answer. "You'll get it back in a few days. I know it's precious to you."

"Damn straight," Will confirmed.

"We'll talk soon," Fitz said to Will as he and Olivia departed. She followed him out of the backyard through the house to the driveway where the guests' cars were parked.

She had so many questions, but didn't know where to begin. He walked her to her rental in silence until he asked, "So I'll meet you at my place?"

"Yeah I guess," she replied, her voice drifting.

"What's wrong?" he asked, noticing her shift in demeanor, especially from their time in the powder room.

"Nothing," she said, leaning against her car.

"You sure?" he asked, trying to read her expression. "I know this isn't really your crowd. Bunch of stuffy, rich people."

"No, the people were fine. It's fine."

"Then what?"

"Fitz," she said as if he should have known why exactly she was a bit confused.

"What?"

"You said your Ex and her family _might_ be here not that it was at her brother's house."

He shrugged. "I didn't think the exact location would be a big deal so much as the part about _them_ being here"

She sighed. "I don't know. It's just kind of...weird."

"So if I told you this was her at brother's house would you still have come?"

"Maybe," she said with a shrug. "But that's not the point. I mean Fitz, we made out in her brother's bathroom. Come on," she replied.

"Well, I didn't know you were going to kiss me," he said with a smirk.

She jabbed his chest. "Fitz, seriously," she said but couldn't help but smile.

"I probably should have told you it was at Will's place, but I honestly didn't think the location mattered so much as the fact that they were going to be here. I promise."

She sighed again and he pressed against her as she rested against the car. He grabbed both of her hands. "I hope this didn't make you uncomfortable. That's the last thing I want-"

"I'm not uncomfortable," she assured him. "But you should probably go back inside. We aren't supposed to be leaving together, remember?" At this point, aside from the being the gossip of Mrs. Fraizer, wasn't even sure what they were trying to hide.

He nodded and asked, "My place?"

"Yeah I'll be there soon.

* * *

Fitz's home was immaculate, and it wasn't just that it was impeccably decorated. With vaulted ceilings and stained oak floors, the design was incredibly impressive. She was coming to learn the housing stock in Nashville, and quickly recognized this as a "tall and skinny," a type of home known for tall and narrow structure. With muted earth tones and luxury finishes, his home felt masculine with a feminine touch. She figured one of his designers was responsible for it. Every piece of furniture, every piece of decor was in it's place. If it wasn't for the tiny shoes and rain coats in the mudroom, Olivia wouldn't have guessed children dwelled there.

An oversized sectional sitting in front of a 72 inch television took over the living room. His sofa was so deep her legs barely hung over it. She kicked off her shoes, got comfortable on the couch, turned on the TV and waited for him to arrive.

She wasn't alone for long. She heard his keys jingle in the door, and her heart raced. They had only been a part for for a half hour, and she was giddy again at the prospect to be near him. It slightly embarrasing.

"Hey, beautiful," he said, as he dropped his keys on a console table in the foyer.

She heard his voice, but couldn't see him until he made his way to the living room. He was already barefoot. He plopped down beside her.

"Hi," she replied, turning to him.

He didn't have to do much to give her goosebumps. Literally just sitting beside him made the hair on her arms stand. She was impossibly attracted to him. He leaned in to kiss her, "Thank you for coming," he said against her lips. He broke their kiss way sooner than she wanted.

"I'm gonna make some popcorn," he said. He moved to leave the living room for the kitchen. He was clearly serious about their movie night, more serious than she would have liked. He returned with a bowl of popcorn, a bottle of wine, two wine glasses, and a two bottles of an IPA she didn't recognize.

He pulled her to his side and found a blanket to cover them. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as he grabbed the remote.

"What do you want to watch?" he asked.

She couldn't believe how earnest he was about watching a movie. It was the last thing on her mind.

"I don't really care," she replied as he flipped through movie options. The movie was clearly happening, so she settled into him as he picked a random war drama to watch.

She was so relaxed in his presence, safer than she felt in a long time. She drifted asleep not even fifteen minutes into the movie. It wasn't until the blaring music during the movie's closing credit's did she wake up.

"I'm so sorry," she said through a yawn, looking up at him to see if maybe he had fallen asleep too. He hadn't, but he didn't mind that she had.

"It's okay. It wasn't that great anyway."

It was silent for a moment before he said, "I'm just glad you're here."

She nodded in agreement, but was growing more and more impaitent that he hadn't made a move.

She just couldn't take it anymore. Him being so close, but not close enough, was killing her. She climbed into his lap and rested her hands on his shoulders, hiking her dress up a bit so that she could get comfortable straddling him.

He was a bit surprised to get a more than handful of her but certainly didn't protest. He stared at her like she hung the moon, but made no move to her touch. So she placed his hands so they rested on her thighs. Still, he didn't make a move.

"Fitz," she said, sounding a bit defeated and a little confused by his lack of enthusiam to have her this close to him.

Then he smiled. As if it were a game, he simply grinned at her. If he wanted to play, she would play. She moved his hands away from her thighs, and she slowly rocked her hips against him. She leaned in and placed soft kisses against his neck. She unbuttoned the top of his shirt and kissed him along his collarbone. Still, he barely touched her. She rocked faster, scooted herself in his lap further until she felt his arousal through his slacks.

Earlier in the day, the she was a bit startled to feel his length, but now she felt emboldened. She rubbed him through his pants, and finally that seemed to set him off. He grasped at her thighs as she moved against him.

She moved her kisses up his neck to his chin, his ear, and his cheek, but avoided his lips. He attempted to grab her by the chin so that he could kiss her fully, but she dodged his advances. He tried again, but she swerved her head so he couldn't kiss her. He started this game, but she was determined to finish it.

She was surprised when she felt his hand at the back of her neck, holding her in place. "C'mere," he demanded.

The depth of his tone sent a shiver down her spine. She leanead in, bit his bottom lip softly, and then kissed him thoroughly. She was certain that it would be impossible to tire of kissing him. He moved his hands to her hips, guiding them back and forth in his lap. She felt so small yet so powerful being on top of him. He pulled the straps of her dress down. He seemed surprised to find that she wasn't wearing a bra, leaving her totally topless, her nipples pointing towards him. He took it as an invitation to lean down and kiss them individually before sucking them. She cradled his head to her chest. His touch was making her feel like she was coming out of her skin.

"Fitz," she called breathlessly.

He must have known how on fire she was, but that didn't stop him from pushing her dress up to further expose her thighs and dipping his hand in her lace underwear.

"Fuck, you're wet," he said, slipping a knuckle against her folds. She was falling apart, and he didn't have to put in a lot of effort. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so unrestrained with a man.

"Fitz, please," she begged, needing more than his teasing. He slid two fingers inside of her, brushed a fingertip against her clit, and she came totally undone. She panted his name as he sucked on her neck. Her body and mind slowly came back to her. Her orgasm hit her so fast, she could barely even process it. He removed his fingers from her center and quickly undressed her fully. He moved her from his lap so that she rested on her back along the couch. He hovered over her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer to her. She loved the feeling of his weight on top of her. She would have loved it more if he wasn't still fully clothed. So she grabbed at the buttons of his pants, loosened them before she unzipped him. She reached her hand in his briefs and grasped at his manhood. He groaned against her lips as she pumped him. He pushed her hand away only to urgently remove his clothing. He pressed back against her, pushing her down into the cushion of the sofa.

The feeling of being skin to skin with him felt better than she imagined, and it suddenly hit her that they were actually doing this. She didn't feel scared or nervous. She simply wanted him. Never had she felt so brazen and lustfilled. He kissed her all over her body, trailing kisses from breasts to her to stomach to the inside of her thigh. As much as she wanted to feel his tongue along her center, she wanted him inside of her more urgently.

She pulled him back up to her and languidly kissed him, his arousal pressed up against her. She reached between them and stroked him again. She loved his reaction, the sounds he made, every time she touched him.

"Please," she said again, hoping he'd enter her.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

She wasn't sure if he was trying to tease her or if he truly wanted confirmation, but she was going out of her mind.

"I need it," she whined desperately.

He quickly moved away from her body and reached behind him. She wasn't sure what he was doing, but she growing impatient. When he pulled out a condom and pressed against her again, she felt a sense of relief.

He quickly slid it on and slowly filled her. She gasped breathlessly and clung to him. This was surely the most pleasure she felt in a long very time.


	9. Chapter 9

At some point in the night, they made it to Fitz's bed. It was after a second round on the couch and a third on his staircase. He had unleashed a side of her that she didn't know was there. Sex was good with her previous partners. But this, with Fitz, was the most carnal experience she'd ever had. She wasn't holding back. Neither was he.

They were supposed to be going to sleep. She was wearing one of his t-shirts, covered in a thin sheet. It was nearly 2am, and she had a flight back to D.C. later in the day. Still, that didn't keep Fitz from touching her and kissing her and finding new ways to make her crest.

"Fitz," she protested as he kissed her along her neck while she lay beside him. "We _have_ to go to sleep," she urged, attempting to pull away from him. But his lips just felt too good to truly stop him.

"Have to?" he questioned, moving his hands to grip her ass. "Are you sleepy?" he asked, pulling one of her legs to rest over his hip.

"No, but-"

"Then be quiet," he said. He moved his kisses from her neck to her lips. He prodded them open with his tongue, seeming to love the taste of her just as much as she loved the taste of him. She gripped the back of his neck, ran her fingers through his hair and found the willpower to break their kiss.

"I'm going to bed," she said firmly. She pecked his lips and then shifted away from him but then brought his arm around her body to spoon her.

He kissed her shoulder and held her tight. "Thank you for coming today. I'm glad you were there. And for last night" he said quietly.

"Of course," she replied. She turned around to face him again. It was dark, but she could still make out his features. She traced his lips with her fingers. It was impossible not to touch him.

"Was it weird for you? Having me there with your ex?" she asked. She could not imagine what it would be like for Edison to see her with another man. It would be be a disaster for sure.

"Not really," he replied.

"What did she want to talk to you about?" Olivia asked, but as soon as the question left her lips, she realized that she might be overstepping.

He didn't seem to mind. "The kids. They're with their grandparents, and she wanted to see if I could pick them up next week."

Olivia nodded. She sensed there was more. "And," he continued, pulling her a little closer to him. "Don't be offended by this," he said. He kissed her nose and then kissed her lips softly for good measure. "She wanted to make sure you hadn't met the kids yet."

"Oh," Olivia replied, a bit taken aback by that remark.

"Yeah, we have a rule about waiting to introduce the kids until we know it's serious. We don't want people going in and out of their lives."

Olivia could understand that. She wasn't even sure what was happening between them. It felt like more than a fling, but they certainly weren't _serious_ , whatever that meant. "I'm not offended. I mean, I get it," she said. "Are you guys like...friendly with each other?" she asked, wanting to understand more of their dynamic.

"Uh, I guess you could say that. To be honest, if it weren't for the kids I would truly have nothing to do with her. But we try to remain friends for the kids. We didn't have a great marriage, but she's a great mom," he explained.

"How are you so close with her brother?" she asked.

"I don't know. We bonded. He helped me through some hard times...not just between me and Mellie. And when everything happened between me and Mellie, he was never judgmental. I liked to think I helped him with some hard times, too. It's just family."

She wanted to ask what exactly happened between the two, but didn't want to push. However, she could relate to keeping family bonds given that she occasionally spoke to Edison's grandmother. Some bonds were hard to break.

"Do you ever miss being married?" she asked.

"To Mellie? Hell, no," he said confidently. His tone made her giggle. "But I do miss the little things. Always having someone there to talk to. You know? That sort of thing."

She nodded in agreement. She didn't miss Edison, but she couldn't deny that she missed the companionship relationships bring.

"But what about you? Why did you decide you didn't want to marry your ex?" he inquired.

"Oh god, we'd be here all night if I told you that," she said dismissively. He held her gaze, so she continued. "I don't know. He just wasn't right for me," she said.

"What made you realize that?"

"I think we just wanted different things in life. And his job was very demanding, too high pressure" she explained.

"What did he do?"

She hated bring up Edison up for so many reasons, but mostly because he just so happened to be a public figure. It made talking about him difficult. Hesitantly, "He, uh, he's a senator," she said.

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Who is he?"

"Edison. Edison Davis."

Even in the dark, she could tell that he was surprised to learn this. "Wow!" he responded.

"I mean it sounds impressive, but he's honestly an idiot."

He laughed. "Well, only an idiot would let you go," he said, bringing her a little closer to him.

Smiling, "That's nice," she replied, almost bashfully.

"It's true," he said, pulling her nearly on top of him. "I can't keep my hands off you, Liv," He caressed her thighs and lifted his t-shirt from her body so that he could feel more of her skin.

"I don't want you to," she said in a near whisper.

"Is that right?" he asked, slipping his a hand between her legs.

"Yeah," she said in a breath.

"Tell me what else you want?"

She spent the next hour telling him exactly what she wanted and where she wanted it, and he happily obliged.

* * *

After a few days in Nashville, Olivia was back in D.C. And she was having a supremely shitty day. It started with getting a flat tire on her way to work. Next, during a preliminary design meeting, a new client assumed that she was the assistant and Quinn was the designer. The meeting ended with the client complimenting her for "how articulate and knowledgeable" she was. It wasn't surprising to hear this type of thing, but it was no less frustrating.

Now, she sat in her office with Quinn completing her least favorite task: the dreaded schedule.

"So you have a fitting next week. We'll to squeeze in a meeting with Johnsons' between that," Quinn explained to Olivia who was half listening. She perked up hearing about a fitting.

"A fitting? For what? We don't have any press planned do we?" Olivia asked.

"No. No press. But you _do_ have to go to Edison's banquet," Quinn explained.

"Why do I need to get fitted for that? I'm sure I can find a dress in my closet."

"Liv, it's high-profile. You'll be sitting-"

"I told you. This is not a date. I'm not sitting with him."

"You kind of have-"

"Do what you have to do to change the seating arrangements. I will go for his grandmother, but I don't want to sit with him," she said sternly.

"I don't know that I can-"

"Quinn, just fix it!" she said harshly, harsher than she intended.

"I'll try," Quinn said. The phone buzzed before Olivia could apologize.

"Liv, Mr. Grant is on line two," her receptionist called to her.

"I'll let you have the room," Quinn said, standing to leave. "We'll finish this later," she said as she exited.

Olivia nodded and picked up the phone. She was not expecting his call, but she was so grateful for the distraction.

"Mr. Grant, how are you?" she asked, feigning professionalism.

"Better now that I hear your voice, Ms. Pope."

"Likewise," she said with a sigh, quickly dropping any pretense of formality.

She didn't want to admit how much she missed him. She just wanted to talk to him and vent to him. More than that, she wished that he was with her in person. It was silly, but she felt like if she could just kiss him, her day would be so much better.

"It's been a shit day," she admitted.

"I'm sorry. Tell me about it," he said, sounding so genuinely interested to hear about it.

"Well, I got a drywall screw in my tire, so not a great start. Then, I met a new client who thought I was Quinn and Quinn was me. Which, you know, happens every now and then. But then she proceeded to say that I was _articulate and knowledgable_."

"Wait. Isn't that a compliment?" he asked sincerely.

She scoffed and laughed. "Uh. Yeah, but not really," she said, hoping she didn't sound as impatient as she was growing.

"I don't think I understand."

"It's just not something I think she'd say if I didn't look the way that I look," she explained.

"But you _are_ so smart. She probably just...saw that in you too."

"Yeah, but the underlying assumption is that I _wouldn't_ be smart. She said it as if she was surprised that I _could_ be smart. I don't know. It's kind of an asshole thing to say, Fitz." She knew at this point she sounded defeated.

"It seems like she was trying to be nice," he said.

"Yeah, she was trying to be nice, but it didn't feel nice. So-," she said sharply.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset. I just..." But the fact was she was quite upset. And didn't know how to tell him. "I should really go. I have a meeting in a few," she said. She figured it would be better to not talk to him than to continue to go back and forth with him. She did not want to have this conversation and suddenly felt a little naive to expect that he would understand.

"Okay. Can I call you later?" he asked.

"Sure," she said and abruptly hung up the phone.

This day, somehow, managed to get worse.

* * *

"He said what?" Abby asked. She and Olivia were a downing a bottle of wine on Olivia's living room couch. Olivia called her on her way home in near tears of frustration, and Abby immediately offered to come over and talk. Their friendship was the one thing that was going right for the day.

"That she was trying to be nice!" Olivia confirmed. She was getting more animated with every new glass of wine.

"Oh bless him," Abby replied with her glass to her lips.

"I'm _not_ going to explain this type of shit to him or anyone else I'm dating for that matter. I just can't do it," Olivia said, sounding so exasperated.

"So you are dating?"

"I don't know. We haven't said- That's not important. I like him, but we are clearly way too different."

"Then don't see him again," Abby said bluntly.

Olivia frowned and rolled her eyes.

"So want to see him again?" Abby asked.

"I don't want to _not_ see him again. But also I can't be with someone who fundamentally doesn't understand my life. I don't want to have to explain what it's like to be a black woman. Fucking, read a book or something. Google is free," she said, sounding completely frustrated.

Abby wasn't a person of color, but she could certainly sympathize with Olivia's frustration. She nodded in agreement before asking, "Have you guys hooked up yet?"

Olivia blushed and took a huge gulp of wine. She grinned just thinking about their night together.

"You have! How was it?" Abby inquired.

Olivia groaned and threw her head back. Maybe if the sex wasn't so good, she would have an easier time just dismissing him she tried to justify to herself. But in the back of her head, she knew that was far from the truth. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, they had a genuine connection. And it was not just sexual.

"Unreal," she confessed.

"That good, huh?"

Olivia nodded, biting her thumb. Just thinking about the night they spent together made her skin prickle. The things he had her saying and doing was so uncharacteristic.

Olivia's phone vibrated. She picked it up and sighed seeing that it was Fitz texting her. He was timing was unbelievable. Olivia showed Abby her phone and then read his message.

 **Hey, I'm really sorry.**

A second text came in a few seconds later.

 **I looked up microaggressions**

And then he followed that up with,

 **I'm an idiot. I should't have said what I said.**

Olivia smiled and took a moment to think about her reply before sending,

 _It's okay._

 **No, it's not okay. I'm embarrassed that I didn't think about your perspective more.**

She replied,

 _I appreciate the apology and the research lol. It means a lot._

 **So I didn't blow it?**

Her heart fluttered realizing that he was nervous she wouldn't want to talk to him after their phone call. She typed,

 _No, far from it._

She only waited a few seconds before he asked,

 **Can I see you soon? I can fly to you this time.**

She didn't want to admit how happy it made her that he wanted to see her just as much she wanted to see him, despite their awkward conversation. She sent back,

 _I'd like that._

"So?" Abby said, trying to read Olivia's face.

She tossed her phone on the couch and replied, " _So_ I guess he's coming here."

* * *

 **AN: Wasn't sure if I should add this chapter. Please let me know what you think! Did Olivia overreact? Thanks for reading!**


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